


3:10 to Leningrad

by peachgalaxy



Series: Shockingly Awesome Fanfics [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe - Cold War, Assassin Darcy Lewis, Assassin Natasha Romanov, Carol and Steve Friendship, Commies and Capitalists, F/F, F/M, Killing Eve Adjacent AU, Steve is still beefy and enhanced, Super Soldier Carol, a meet......ugly, graphic descriptions of bullet holes lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 00:56:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachgalaxy/pseuds/peachgalaxy
Summary: Carol and Steve are finally chosen to perform an op on foreign soil, gathering information on two suspicious women popping up at the death scenes of Soviet defectors and dissenters. Too bad they really suck at being spies.





	3:10 to Leningrad

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly a fic inspired by a Killing Eve meme and I've never seen the show, hence this AU being vaguely adjacent to the show lol. This is also, hopefully, going to be a little bit of a series while I whip my long fic into shape.

_ Quantico, Virginia, 1980  _

“Oof! Dammit, Rogers!” 

Carol swears when she hits the mat for the tenth time in just as many minutes. She hasn’t really broken a sweat on her forehead but the itchiness between her breasts told a different story. 

_ Gross _ . 

“You weren’t guarding your right side.” Steve sounds a bit smug and Carol scowls up at his neutral expression, aside from the quirk of his lips. Her enhanced sight hones in on the fact Steve’s forehead isn’t even damp. 

_ Stupid SHIELD Golden Boy.  _

“Yeah, yeah. Again.” 

Steve does laugh as he helps her up. Carol wasn’t above that, at least. 

“Remember to watch your right side, Danvers.” 

Carol grits her teeth and sinks into her defensive stance, ready to finally manage to give Steve a what for. 

——

_ Casablanca, Morocco, 1980  _

The embers glow from Natalia’s cigarette in the dim hotel room. It's the only light in the room aside from weak bedside lamps. The hit is sprawled out on the bed beside her partner. Daria is lighting her own cigarette, periodically tapping the ashes into the clean bullet hole above his right eye. 

“ _ Nice shot. But your form could still use work. _ ” 

Natalia snorts, cutting her eyes to the rifle leaning against the wall beside her. 

“ _ I’m not above admitting you are a far better shot. I was made for undercover ops, as you’re aware.”  _

Daria returns with a snort of her own, stubbing out her cigarette on the dead man’s cheek. Natalia had noticed the target had been far too eager to get into bed with the other woman. Daria’s curves attracted many gazes and he, apparently, couldn’t resist a sweet, young British co-ed on a Moroccan holiday. 

_ All men were gullible when confronted with a pair of breasts, it seems. _

“ _ Ready to leave, Natalia? I suppose I should report this to the police. _ ” 

Natalia nods and flicks her cigarette butt into a nearby trash can, Daria doing the same. Next to go is the lighter after the contents of the trash can are set on fire. It was easy to hide their presence that way. Daria takes the duffle bag offered to her and proceeds to pull on her tac gear, handing the empty bag back to Natalia. 

“ _ Should you call the police or should I? _ ” Daria queries as she snaps her black latex gloves on before checking all her weapons.

“ _ This one is all yours.”  _

“ _ Perfect _ .” 

Daria’s put on terror and British inflection follows Natalia as she jumps to the cobbled street below before disappearing into a shadowed alleyway to wait for her partner. 

——

_ Quantico, Virginia, 1980 _

Special Agent Hill looks slightly frazzled. Hill is  _ never _ frazzled. 

“You two, come with me.” 

Carol cuts her eyes to Steve as she stands from her seat in the common room, his confused expression mirroring hers. Hill takes them to the sixth floor. The sixth floor is where all the government and military bigwigs convene for meetings. At least the ones in the know on Project Patriot. Carol takes stock of the surroundings on the sixth floor. The last time she was up here was before her procedure. 

“Special Agent Hill, is something bothering you?” 

Carol’s eyes catch sight of Hill’s shoulders stiffening. 

“Save the questions, Rogers. Fury will debrief you during the meeting.” 

_ Ah, Director Fury. That’s what has Hill on edge.  _

Fury never left the sixth floor. You came to him, he didn’t come to you. 

Hill stops at the end of the hallway, knocking rapidly on one of the large metal doors in front of them. It takes a few minutes but the door swings open, revealing a young man, with a lollipop stick between his teeth. 

“Tony, where are Fury and Howard?” Hill sounds like she’s about to have a breakdown. 

The young man, couldn’t be more than college age, rolls his eyes before stepping out of the way so the three of them can enter. It’s not a meeting room they’ve been taken to. It looks more like a nuclear bomb shelter being used to plan an attack. A tall black man is standing in front of a large bulletin board covered in pictures, newspaper clippings, and sections of a map. 

_ So, Fury really does do work up here; he doesn’t just hide out in his office like a fairy tale cave troll.  _

“He’s been studying that board for over an hour.” The young man, Tony, says next to Carol’s ear. She would’ve reacted badly if Tony didn’t smell like artificial cherry or breathe so loudly through his nose. 

_ Not an agent then. Far too noisy.  _

Carol nods to show she’s heard. Tony leans back but doesn’t move from behind her. 

“Director. I brought the agents you requested.” 

“Thank you, Hill, I can take it from here. Also, take Howard’s kid with you, he’s been under my feet for the last two hours and his services aren’t required.” 

“Understood.” 

Tony squawks in protest to Fury calling him a kid before teasing Hill by quipping he ‘likes women who can push him around.’ The metal door closes behind Hill and Tony before Fury turns away from the bulletin board. 

“Stark says he could make me something far better to keep track of information I collect but I’ve always preferred the old-fashioned way.” 

Steve stiffens beside her, trying to emulate the perfect soldier while Carol lets her arms crossed while she shoots Fury an unimpressed look. 

“What’s the eyepatch for? Pirates don’t rule the seas anymore.” 

Fury snorts and Steve rolls his eyes at her belligerence. 

“I use it to impress the ladies.” Fury deadpans, sitting on an office chair in front of the board. 

“What my partner  _ means _ is, why have we been called to the sixth floor? Is there an op?” 

Carol begins to buzz with excitement. 

_ Don’t let me down, Fury. Let me and Golden Boy spread our wings.  _

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do have an op. Hill says you are doing well in the program, I felt it was time for the two of you to test the waters.” 

Gesturing to the board behind him, Carol and Steve take the hint, approaching it to take stock. 

** _MOROCCO: FORMER SOVIET POLITICIAN AND SUSPECTED DEFECTOR ANDREY MIKHAILOV FOUND DEAD IN CASABLANCA. NO LEADS _ **

** _WEST GERMANY: HOME OF SOVIET DISSENTER AND FAMILY BURNED TO THE GROUND. FAMILY PRESUMED DEAD. NO LEADS. _ **

Every single headline has a similarity. Soviet defectors and dissenters ending up dead all over Europe. It reeked of hits and assassinations. The buzz of excitement gets stronger in Carol’s stomach. Steve, righteous Catholic Steve, is frowning. His eyebrows are doing that weird thing where they tick involuntarily. 

“Now that you see what I’ve noticed, you see why it’s not out of the realm of reality our Communist friends are overstepping their bounds.” Fury says blandly, tapping a pen against the desktop. 

“Has anyone seen anything? Are you sure these governments want the United States interfering? How can we be sure these are Soviet hits?” Steve asks, turning to face Fury. Carol turns away from the bulletin board, as well. Leave it to Steve to ask necessary but boring questions. 

She groans internally. 

“Not as far as my other agents have been able to find out. Though, there is  _ one  _ clue.” Brushing aside a few papers on the desk, Fury picks up a photo from the pile and hands it to them. Steve takes it while Carol peers over to study it. 

“These two women were seen near the site of a Russian doctor’s practice in Oxford, England. No one knows who they are and had never seen them before the day the doctor was found dead in his office.” 

The blonde-haired woman catches Carol’s eye. She looks young. She’s dressed nice, too, like what you’d expect a European socialite to wear, green tweed with a matching beret. The other woman has black hair and she’s dressed much the same, only her outfit is navy blue. 

“They’re hot. You think they’re Soviets?” 

“That’s exactly what I think, Danvers. But, I have no proof, which is why you two need to get it for me.” 

Steve and Carol lock eyes before nodding at the same time. 

——

_ Leningrad, Russia, 1980 _

“ _ Hey, Nat, have you noticed those Americans are following us? They aren’t being very subtle. _ ”

Natalia primly sips her espresso, using her sunglasses to hide the movement of her eyes. 

“_They’ve been following us since Moscow._ _I’m letting them have their fun._” 

The two women are relaxing at a cafe, the smell of coffee and pastries stronger due to their enhanced senses of smell. Daria takes a bite of her croissant before pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. The two Americans are sitting a few tables away, trying and failing to look inconspicuous. 

_ They clearly aren’t made for undercover work. The poor lambs. _

“ _ Go say something to them. They’re cute, for Americans. _ ” Natalia says with a shrug. 

“ _ I’d be honored. _ ” 

Daria stands from her chair, picking up her purse as she goes. She feigns getting caught up looking for something in her bag and she trips over the leg of the American woman’s chair. The contents go clattering to flagstones and she profusely begins to apologize as she kneels down, putting on a harried appearance. 

“I am so sorry. My mother says I’m always so clumsy and I wouldn’t realize I’d fallen until I came to on the ground!” 

Daria pushes her sunglasses up on her head, red strands from her wig blowing in her face due to the spring breeze. 

“Uh...It’s no problem. Here, let me help.” 

It’s the American man who speaks, the woman seems to have frozen in place, her eyes locked with Daria’s. 

_ Natalia was right, they aren’t awful looking, for Capitalist pigs. _

Once Daria’s purse is back to rights, she stands, taking the man’s offered hand. 

_ Hmm...a sweet one. Easily exploitable.  _

“I’m so sorry again, I should’ve watched where I was going.” 

The blonde woman blinks rapidly before frowning for a half-second before smoothing her features. 

“No problem. You didn’t do me any damage.”

Daria gives the two a winning smile before taking the woman’s hand to shake it. She notices exactly when the woman realizes Daria’s slipped the piece of paper into her hand. 

_ So easy.  _

“Aside from my clumsy moment, I hope you enjoy your drinks. My sister and I have always loved cafes like this, they’re so cute!” 

Daria gives them another winning smile before heading back to Nat, who’s hiding a smirk behind her cup. 

“ _ Nice one. Hopefully, we’ll see them again. _ ”, Natalia says, flicking a strand of brown hair over her shoulder. 

Daria peers back, noticing the two Americans have vanished, leaving their half-finished drinks behind. 

“ _ Oh, I believe we will.”  _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
